


Provocation and Playing Nice

by serpentcorelyss (CosmicallyLyss)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Banter, Biting, Blood Kink, Choking, Consent, Dialogue Heavy, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Consent, Japanese Mafia, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Mafia AU, Making Out, Marking, Name-Calling, Nekoma, Nohebi, Piercings, Power Dynamics, Power Struggle, Scratching, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Yakuza, but it is barely there, mafia boss daishou, mafia boss kuroo, nekoma mafia, nohebi mafia, not sexual choking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:02:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28217397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicallyLyss/pseuds/serpentcorelyss
Summary: (reposting all my haikyuu works under a new pseud!)" “What would you prefer I call you, huh? Dirty bastard?” Kuroo was managing to keep his composure exceptionally well, which Daishou had to give him credit for, but the green-haired man could recognize the rage slowly building inside of Kuroo, and he wanted to bring it out further.“Dirty bastard?” Daishou echoed. “You certainly know how to make a man blush, Tetsurou.”“Shut your vile mouth,” Kuroo snapped. “You’ll call me Kuroo, I’ll call you Daishou, end of story.”“How dominating…” Daishou grinned maliciously, forked tongue darting out of his mouth. “And Nekoma really allows a dictator like this to lead them?” "
Relationships: Daishou Suguru/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 8
Kudos: 42





	Provocation and Playing Nice

**Author's Note:**

> repost of all my hq works under this pseud !! uhh some highly charged making out between two of haikyuu's best characters lol

“Sir?”

The man being addressed slowly raised his eyes up from the stacks of paper on his desk until he met the gaze of the woman before him. “What is it, Mika-chan?” The man’s voice was but a low murmur; his mouth barely opened to push the words out.

“Nekoma’s boss has arrived.” The woman, Yamaka Mika, said plainly, her hands clasped in front of her, resting against her jade green pencil skirt. “Shall I send him in?”

“Hm…” The man at the desk pursed his lips in concentration. “One more body search. Be thorough. Check for poisons, for weapons. Even for recording devices. And send Numai in with him when you’re done.”

“You got it, boss.” Yamaka turned to leave. As she was exiting the door, she paused to look back at the man. “After the meeting, would you like to have dinner together?”

He raised an arched eyebrow as a devious smirk formed on his lips. “Oh, Yamaka…” he began. “Do you not remember our romance ended when we were in high school? What we have now is strictly a business relationship. It will _never_ be anything more.”

“Right…” Yamaka said with a heavy sigh. “My apologies for being unprofessional.”

“Just complete your tasks and send him in with Numai.”

The man didn’t have to wait much longer; his underlings worked quickly and Nekoma’s boss would be arriving soon enough. There was just enough time for him to shove the papers into a desk drawer and sit back in his plush leather chair before the door swung open to reveal the two men that had been ordered into his large office. He acknowledged Numai with a nod of his head, and watched as his bodyguard walked off to a corner of the room, stoic and silent. The other boss stepped closer and closer until he was right in front of his desk. _Ballsy…_ he thought. He continued to sit silently, not being bothered to make the first move.

“Ophidia.” Nekoma’s boss said. His voice was deep and carried an air of power with it.

“Kuroo.” The sitting man responded, his eyes half shut with boredom.

“You know my name.” Kuroo observed, his cat-like eyes glinting in the dim light of the office. “Wouldn’t we be on even playing ground if I knew yours?”

“Maybe… But where’s the fun in that, Tetsu-chan?” A snicker started to bubble within the man’s chest as Kuroo scowled. Kuroo was remaining quiet, so the man decided to use this opportunity to give him a once-over. He’d never seen Kuroo up close before the present moment. His hair, thick and black, was messy, spiky, and fell over his right eye. He wore a three piece suit - all black with a maroon tie. It fit him well, accentuating his muscular build and broad shoulders without making him appear too stocky. The desk blocked any view of Kuroo’s shoes, but that wasn’t of prime importance. Yes… Kuroo Tetsurou, the man in charge of leading the Nekoma family. He was outgoing, he was flashy - he was irritating. He tensed up when he noticed the eyes traveling down his body, but nobody in the room made any mention of it.

“I didn’t come here for fun, Ophidia.” Kuroo muttered, glowering.

The man’s lips stretched into a twisted smile, and his sharp canines became visible as they started to press against his lower lip. “Daishou Suguru.” He stated. “Though I’m surprised your family wasn’t able to find that information out, considering how skilled you are in the intelligence department. That’s led by… Kozume, if I remember correctly?”

Kuroo didn’t let Daishou have the luxury of an answer, and instead gave him the same treatment - a scan of his body starting from head to toe. Daishou wasn’t at all intimidated by the looks, instead he welcomed them. He was confident in his appearance, even going as far as to use it to convince the bosses of other families to do his bidding. His hair, dark green in color, was kept short and his thick bangs were swept neatly to the left side. They didn’t cover either of his narrow eyes, and instead framed his angular face gently. Through his bottom lip were two piercings, gold rings on either side, resembling a snake’s fangs. His short-sleeved silk shirt was an off-white color with a snakeskin pattern printed on it, kept unbuttoned down to his sternum. He wore two necklaces, one silver one with a ring on it, and the other a gold one with a snake wrapped around a gaudy emerald as its pendant. Daishou could practically feel Kuroo’s eyes trace the individual lines of a tattoo across the right side of his body that peeked out of his shirt. His top was tucked into tight, black leather pants. They were secured snugly around his waist with a belt and had a similar pattern as his shirt running down either side of his legs. On his feet were ankle high black combat boots. “Like what you see, Tetsu-chan?” After asking the teasing question, Daishou mischievously stuck his tongue out, and was pleased with Kuroo’s startled response when he realized Daishou’s tongue was bifurcated. Kuroo had the wilder personality, but Daishou took the top prize for wild appearance.

“Quit it with the nicknames.” Kuroo was getting irritated, and leaned a little bit over the desk, towering over the still-sitting Daishou.

“Trying to exert power over me? In _my_ domain?” Daishou, now provoked, stood up to face Kuroo head-on. His movements caused Kuroo to stand straight again, and Daishou cursed internally at the observation that Kuroo was a few inches taller than him. “That’s not smart.”

Kuroo’s hazel eyes narrowed as he scowled at Daishou. “I’m not here for idle conversation, Ohpidia, so tell me w-”

“Hold on.” Daishou interrupted. “You were desperate to learn my real name only for you to not call me by it?”

“What would you prefer I call you, huh? Dirty bastard?” Kuroo was managing to keep his composure exceptionally well, which Daishou had to give him credit for, but the green-haired man could recognize the rage slowly building inside of Kuroo, and he wanted to bring it out further.

“Dirty bastard?” Daishou echoed. “You certainly know how to make a man blush, Tetsurou.”

“Shut your vile mouth,” Kuroo snapped. “You’ll call me Kuroo, I’ll call you Daishou, end of story.”

“How dominating…” Daishou grinned maliciously, forked tongue darting out of his mouth. “And Nekoma really allows a dictator like this to lead them?” Kuroo was glaring daggers at him, and Daishou was sure if they were real, he’d be slumped over his desk, bleeding out. Good. His provocations were working.

“Listen here, Suguru, that’s crossing the damn line.” Kuroo’s right hand was twitching at his side. Daishou felt a spike of nervousness course through his body, white-hot like a bolt of lightning. Was Kuroo itching to get physical if he kept going? “I’ve been letting your bullshit slide this whole time, but I’m not letting you insult my leadership.” Kuroo watched as Daishou’s jawline became more defined as he gritted his teeth.

“Sit down, Kuroo.” Daishou motioned to a chair similar to his own at Kuroo’s side, and sat down himself once Kuroo obliged to take a seat. “I’m admittedly surprised you wanted to come meet me. You know Nohebi doesn’t do alliances, right?”

“I’m not here for a flimsy attempt at friendship.” Kuroo’s voice had lost all emotion. “You know what you did.”

“Oh? Do I now?” Daishou’s tongue slipped out of his mouth to drag over his piercings. “I’m not so sure… You’ll have to refresh my memory.”

“The shipment of tetrodotoxin meant for Nekoma that your assholes stole.” Kuroo’s fists were clenched at his sides.

“Fifty kilograms of tetrodotoxin, delivered at eight in the morning on September seventeenth on the border of Shibuya and Shinagawa.” Daishou delivered the statement he’d memorized off the report given to him a few days ago.

“Delivered for _me_ on the seventeenth.” Kuroo countered with a grimace.

“If you care about your lovely tetrodonic acid so much, care to explain why nobody had gone to pick it up for days? My men picked it up at two in the morning on the twentieth. And today…” Daishou glanced at the calendar on his desk. “...is the twenty-fourth. If your delivery was so important, why has it taken you a week to come pick it up - and not even directly from the source.”

“Nekoma has involvement with lots of things, Daishou. Sometimes we can’t spare even one person to pick up a delivery as soon as it's in place. We paid for what’s rightfully ours, and I won’t allow your slimy little snakes to steal from me.”

“Oh, Tetsu-chan-”

“Kuroo.”

“ _Tetsu-chan_.” Yes… Daishou was having fun with this. “Wouldn’t it be smart to stop chasing what doesn’t belong to you anymore? It’s better for everyone if Nohebi takes care of it. Poisons are our specialty, as you know, and we can handle them much better than you could ever _hope_ to even if we were all incapacitated.”

“Incapacitated? You wanna test that theory? I’ll gladly help you out.” Kuroo growled, his blood starting to run hot. Numai gave Daishou a pointed look, silently asking him _Boss? Do you need me?_ Daishou beckoned Numai closer with a single finger until he was just a few feet away from the two men, and stopped him in his tracks when he held his hand up, palm facing outward. The hairs on the back of Kuroo’s neck were starting to stand up, but he didn’t allow himself to visibly tense up.

“Besides…” Daishou broke the silence. “Who’s to say the toxin hasn’t been used already?”

“You little _bitch_ -” In an instant, Kuroo was out of his chair and lunging for Daishou across the desk, but in an even quicker flash, Numai had the black-haired man restrained in a headlock. Daishou’s heart rate had quickened, but his outward expression hadn’t changed at all. Kuroo’s face was flushed a dark red from both anger and embarrassment, and his eyes were wide in shock as a result of his own actions. Kuroo, though wild, was not the type to lose his cool. Especially in one-on-one meetings. “I’m sorry.” Kuroo had to choke down his frustrations at feeling the need to apologize, but the muscular man with an arm around his throat didn’t seem to be loosening his grip. “I was out of line.”

“Release him, Numai.” Daishou ordered. Numai instantly let go and Kuroo sucked in a deep breath, smoothing out his suit jacket. “And bring us some wine,” He turned his attention to Kuroo. “Do you prefer red or white?”

Kuroo was taken aback from the sudden change in topic, but muttered out a huffy “Red.” He blinked a few times in quick succession and then opened his mouth once more. “Wait. I’m not going to trust a drink you give me. You said it yourself, it’s common knowledge that Nohebi specializes in poison. And _you_ , Daishou, you know damn well you get called the Venom King.”

“You’re smart… But I admit the thought of poisoning you hadn’t crossed my mind. Nekoma’s involved with too many other families, and I’m not interested in getting into a gang war because I killed Nekoma’s head.” Daishou grimaced at the thought, completely unable to comprehend why Kuroo wanted to get his family tangled in the ropes of five or more other families. “And, yes, I know about the nickname. Though I really do prefer Ophidia…” His tongue darted out of his mouth yet again - the habit was truly serpentine - as he considered his options. “I could have Numai bring in an unopened bottle?” Kuroo’s face remained blank, wholly unimpressed.

“A new bottle from the place you get your own personal alcohol. And I’m coming with whoever’s getting it to watch them.” Kuroo presented his counterargument.

“That’s fair. Numai will take you.” He dismissed the both of them with a flick of his wrist and leaned back in his chair. A loud exhale left his lungs as his office door closed quietly. Daishou couldn’t tell if this meeting was going well or not… On a personal level, it was amazing. Kuroo was powerful and handsome, and Daishou was excelling at pushing all his buttons. When Kuroo first lunged towards him, Daishou had to admit he found it overwhelmingly attractive. He felt the tension in the room building, and could only hope Kuroo felt the same. He’d felt an attraction to the man since first seeing him in action against the Seijoh family - Daishou had been traveling through the Miyagi prefecture for a small vacation when he stumbled upon Nekoma invading Aoba Johsai’s home turf. Kuroo had been captivating, and Daishou wanted to know more. He wanted to know if the feral glare Kuroo unleashed on the Seijoh family would make him feel even more heated if it were directed at himself. It had gotten close a few times, but Daishou hadn’t felt equal, overly intense feelings of fear and attraction at the same time, so he wasn’t satisfied. Taking the tetrodotoxin hadn’t been a plan to lure Nekoma out; it’d go against Daishou’s preferred policy of staying away from conflict and allyship with other families. However, getting to finally meet Kuroo after months of gathering intel on him and Nekoma wasn’t something Daishou frowned upon.

Just as he was starting to get impatient, the door opened, and Kuroo walked inside followed by Numai holding two glasses of red wine. “You can put those on my desk.” He told the bodyguard. “And then you’re free to leave.” Numai looked at him quizzically when he placed the glasses on the wooden surface. “I think dear Tetsu-chan has learned his lesson to not get too worked up. So you can go.”

“Sure, boss.” Numai responded quietly, bowing his head to him and Kuroo before taking his leave and closing the door behind him.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re trying to pull, Daishou, but it’s pissing me off regardless.” Kuroo was glaring at him still.

“Hm…” That was the only response Daishou gave him. He picked up the glass closest to him and took a large swig of the drink. “Pinot Noir…” He noted. “Nice selection.”

“Are you even old enough to drink alcohol?” Kuroo questioned, reaching for his own glass and sipping from it.

Daishou furrowed his brow, looking incredulously at Kuroo. “How young do you think I am, the hell?” Daishou certainly knew he didn’t have a baby face or anything… Right? And he was taller than the average height for men in Japan. Was this looking young thing supposed to be Kuroo’s way of provoking him? Or did he truly mean it, and now Daishou should have another insecurity to pile on his ever-growing list?

“So you’re not seventeen?”

Daishou nearly choked on the sip of wine he was drinking. “Seventeen?! You think I’m a damn kid?!”

“Uh… You came into your leadership position less than a year ago, and you keep yourself hidden in the shadows.” Kuroo explained. “I assumed you were quite the newbie to this stuff. So… You’re actually an adult?”

“I’m twenty-three!” Daishou said, exasperated. The frustration made Daishou down the rest of his wine in one go, and he huffed with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Oh. _Oh_. Wait, hold on-” Kuroo’s lips had parted, his mouth stuck open in shock. “You’re older than me?”

Daishou licked his dry lips before answering. “If you’re younger than twenty-three, yes. That _is_ how age works, Tetsu-chan.”

“I’m twenty-two, but that’ll change after a little over a month. And for the love of god, don’t call me that.” Kuroo’s hazel eyes had lost their sparkle. “How many times will I have to repeat myself?”

“‘Til I listen.” Daishou fixed Kuroo with a smirk before opening a desk drawer to pull out some more alcohol - it was his favorite kind that he kept with him for special occasions; lime flavored vodka.

“And when the hell will that be?” Kuroo rolled his eyes in disgust as Daishou took a small sip straight from the bottle.

“Never.” Daishou’s shit-eating grin was accentuated by his piercings and canines so sharp they could - _should_ \- be considered fangs.

Kuroo stared long and hard at Daishou as he took another drink of the vodka, watching the way his Adam's apple moved in his throat as he swallowed. “Give me some.” Kuroo’s tone made his sentence come across as a command rather than a request, so Daishou just laughed and ignored him. “Daishou.” Ignored. “Suguru.” No response. “Ophidia.” Ah. That caught Daishou’s attention. “Consider this the start of your payment back to Nekoma for stealing the toxin.” He stood up, trying to make his point more effective.

“Look at you making orders…” Daishou’s dark green eyes were practically shimmering as he rose to his feet. “What makes you think I’ll listen?”

“Just start by letting me have some of the damn drink, Daishou.” Kuroo’s eyes were darkening ominously; Daishou loved it.

“I like it when you call me Ophidia. The name sounds good when you say it.” There Daishou went again, completely ignoring Kuroo in favor of shifting the conversation.

“Damn it, Daishou, I’ll call you Ophidia if you let me have the fucking drink. Why are you being so goddamn difficult?”

“And you’re sure you want it?” Daishou’s teasing was relentless. “Even when the bottle’s been in my… hm, what did you call it… my _vile_ mouth?”

“Screw you.” Kuroo’s hand shot out across the desk and closed around the bottle’s neck. He wrenched it towards himself, breaking it out of Daishou’s grip, and took a large sip of it directly from the bottle. “This is disgusting. Right up your alley.”

“Stealing from me…” Daishou murmured. “How disrespectful.”

“Sucks, doesn’t it?” Kuroo put the bottle back down on the desk with a bit more force than necessary, the sound echoing in the office. “Imagine getting fifty kilos of poison stolen from you before you get the chance to even use _some_ of it.”

“You’re still mad about that, Tetsu-chan?”

“Stop calling me that, Suguru.”

“Hey, what happened to calling me Ophidia?”

“I lied.”

“Lying’s _my_ thing; now you’re stealing even more from me?”

“Stop playing games, Daishou. I’m here for business matters only.”

“Of course, Tetsu-chan, why else would you be here?”

“I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Why would I want anything when you asked to arrange a meeting?”

“All this provocation? Getting under my skin? I can read you like a book, Daishou, and I’ve known you for maybe half an hour.”

“Oh, Tetsu-chan, you truly underestimate my ability to conceal my true self.”

“Call me that again. One more time, I dare you.”

“You dare me? How hopelessly cliche…”

“Do you ever shut up?”

“Only with good reason.”

“Want me to give you one?”

“Still such a cliche.”

“I meant permanently shut you up, dumbass.”

“I see… Tetsu-chan’s getting worked up again… Is he gonna try and hurt me this time, too?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you filthy snake.”

“Your words are as charming as ever.”

“You didn’t deny my accusation.”

“I’m not going to debase myself by entertaining your perverted thoughts.”

“You talk about not debasing yourself when you parade yourself around with your pants so tight they look painted on and your shirt half open?”

“You’ve really been checking me out this whole time, huh?”

“Don’t act like you don’t crave the attention.”

“‘You didn’t deny my accusation’... Tetsu-chan.”

That was the breaking point. The use of Kuroo’s own words against him was the catalyst for the taller man’s composure to crumble. His fist, previously clenched at his side, was now closed around Daishou’s throat and squeezing tightly. Daishou’s blood was on fire. Something like this was what he wanted. Fear and arousal mixing together in his stomach and spreading throughout his veins. He swallowed down the saliva that had started to pool in his mouth with some difficulty, shivering at the resistance provided by Kuroo’s hand around his neck. The difference between their breathing patterns was startling; Kuroo was panting heavily, trying to catch his breath after their heated, fast-paced argument, and Daishou was struggling to get more than the occasional shallow breath through his airways.

“I was right.” Kuroo was grinning evilly. “You do like it. You’re blushing.”

“From… alcohol.” Daishou wheezed. “‘m tipsy.” On top of not being able to get many words out, Daishou’s voice was quiet and raspy. He could feel his pulse thundering away inside of his head, his lips felt all tingly, and the edges of his field of vision were slowly fading to black.

“But you didn’t stop me. Even now, you’re letting me do this.”

Daishou peered up at him through half-lidded eyes. “T-Touché.” Kuroo huffed and squeezed tightly for just a moment more before releasing Daishou from his grip and letting the boss catch his breath. “It took longer than expected for you to break.”

“So you really did want that to happen…” Kuroo sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “You’re insane.”

“Not exactly, though.” Daishou dissented. “I wasn’t expecting you to choke me halfway to blacking out. Though I can’t say I was entirely averse to it once it did happen.”

“Filthy…” Kuroo grimaced. After shaking his head slowly, he looked back over at Daishou. “Then what were you expecting, hm?”

Daishou’s grin turned from devious to devilish. “Come here. I don’t want my desk in the way.” Kuroo seemed to hesitate for a moment before walking around the side of Daishou’s desk and positioning himself in front of the other boss. “You seem unsure. I’m not doing anything unless I’ve got full and enthusiastic consent.” Was Daishou a crime lord? Yes. Was he an assailant? No.

“It’s you I’m concerned about, Daishou.” Kuroo admitted. “I’m a heavyweight, so I’m fine, but you said you were already tispy. I don’t want alcohol clouding your judgement.”

Daishou grabbed Kuroo’s dark tie and yanked the man closer until their faces were inches apart. “Kuroo Tetsurou. I have wanted your tongue down my throat since I first laid eyes on you.” Daishou said monotonously, looking up at Kuroo through his eyelashes.

“You really have no filter, Daishou.” Kuroo muttered through breathy laughter.

“Hm…” Daishou pulled at Kuroo’s tie until it started to loosen. “How are we doing this? I’m not gonna hurt my neck just to kiss you, you’re just a bit too tall.” Kuroo peered over Daishou’s shoulder to point at the big leather chair. Daishou seemed to approve of the idea, and went to sit back down, but he was stopped by Kuroo’s hand twisting in the front of his shirt and pulling him back up. “What?”

“There’s no way I’m gonna sit myself on top of you. I’m taller and more muscular,” Kuroo reasoned, letting go of Daishou’s shirt. “I’d snap your fragile bones in half.”

“First you think I’m a minor, then you think I’m fragile…” Daishou’s tongue slipped out of his mouth again, and he let it stay out for just a bit longer than normal, watching Kuroo’s eyes drop down to follow its movements. “It takes much more than you think to break me.”

“Shameless little snake…” Kuroo growled out, finishing the job of taking his tie off, then removing his suit jacket and laying it carefully across Daishou’s desk.

“If that’s me, aren’t you just a feral little kitten?” Again, Daishou was back with the smirking. “I mean, you did attack me unprovoked…” Kuroo’s feline eyes narrowed at Daishou’s words, a snarl escaping from back in his throat. He bent forward, wrapping his hands around the back of Daishou’s thighs, pulling upward and forward until Daishou got the message and hopped off the ground. Their bodies worked in perfect sync, Daishou’s legs wrapping around Kuroo’s waist and arms over his shoulders as the black-haired man surged forward to slam Daishou’s back against the uneven stone wall. He made a small noise of pain, wincing and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Unprovoked?” Kuroo whispered harshly into Daishou’s ear, his teeth wrapping around the metal charm of his dangling earring and lightly pulling it down. “You said you were a liar, apparently you meant you’re a shitty one.”

“Didn’t you wanna go on the chair?” Daishou’s breathing became heavier as Kuroo’s teeth scraped lightly along his jawline. “This doesn’t exactly look like my chair, Tetsu-ch-”

“Do you _ever_ shut the fuck up, holy shit-” Kuroo made a point of pressing his body harder against Daishou’s, pushing him against the wall with more force.

“You like hearing me t-” Daishou cut himself off with a mix of a surprised gasp and a choked off wheeze when Kuroo moved his mouth down to his neck, nipping at the skin of his throat. “You like hearing me talk.”

“What I’d like,” Kuroo’s voice was a bit muffled as a result of his mouth being pressed against Daishou’s flushed skin. “Is for you to shut your debauched mouth.”

“Make me.” The challenge in Daishou’s tone was apparent.

“And you called _me_ a cliche… Idiot.” Kuroo used a free hand to press at his temples. “Chair. Now.” He said it more as a direction for himself as opposed to an order to Daishou. With one last bite at the base of Daishou’s throat, Kuroo backed away from the wall - Daishou’s long limbs still tangled around his body - and led the both of them towards the large leather chair. Kuroo gently tapped Daishou’s waist twice, a silent message which the green-eyed man understood. He got back on his feet, staring expectantly at Kuroo. Kuroo appreciated how comfortable the piece of furniture was as he fell back in it, the leather soft against his back. “C’mere. Sit.” Kuroo motioned to his lap.

“If I do, will you finally shut me up?” Daishou questioned with a hand against his hip. Kuroo scowled at him, grabbing his arm and yanking him towards himself. It left Daishou falling forward, scrambling around for balance until he found himself situated atop Kuroo’s lap, sitting directly on top of his thighs with his legs splayed out to the side. One quick look confirmed Daishou’s sneaking suspicion - his legs stuck out on either side of the chair, under the armrest and behind the piece of wood that connected the armrest to the seat of the chair. In other words, any movement would be limited at best and impossible at worse.

“Daishou.”

“Call me Suguru.”

“Fine, _Suguru_ , I suggest you stop talking back to me.”

“And if I d-” Daishou was left without the ability to finish his sentence; Kuroo had finally - _finally_ \- covered his mouth with his own. Daishou parted his lips instantly, but instead of Kuroo claiming the inside of his mouth, he just pulled away.

“Eager, are we?” Kuroo asked with a teasing grin. Daishou didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer. “Look at you, Suguru…” he continued. “Flushed and sweating, your neck already on its way to being marked up… What would your men and women think if they knew their boss was falling apart in the hands of another family’s head?”

“I’m nowhere close to falling apart. And you’ll never be the one to make it happen.” Daishou spat back. He finally found a good spot to keep his arms - crossed angrily over his chest, that is.

Kuroo hummed his acknowledgement and started to run his hands over Daishou’s thighs. “How do you even manage to wear this? They look like they’re stuck to your skin… There’s barely anything left for the imagination. But you like that, don’t you?” Kuroo’s hands were equal parts grace and strength. They traced delicate patterns over Daishou’s muscular thighs, but squeezed them hard enough to leave bruises - Daishou would have to check that out later, once Kuroo had left.

“Mm… Tetsu-chan…” Daishou’s head had tipped back, his eyes almost fully closed. “Kiss me again.”

“Not yet.” Kuroo stated. “Especially not if you keep calling me that.” Kuroo’s hands left Daishou’s thighs to thumb at the buttons on the front of his shirt. “May I?”

“Go ahead.” Daishou said with a nod, starting to untuck his shirt to make things easier for Kuroo. Nekoma’s boss had warm hands, and Daishou was sure to make mention of it as he worked open his shirt’s buttons and dragged his fingertips across the planes of his stomach. With Daishou’s shirt fully opened, Kuroo was free to admire the intricate tattoo that adorned his torso. The linework was insanely detailed, and most of it was a solid black, save for the rare occurrence of green and yellow. “Pretty, right?”

“It suits you.” Kuroo answered. It wasn’t a direct response to the question Daishou had asked, and he phrased it that way on purpose.

“Mhm… _Now_. Kiss me.” Daishou opened his mouth and stuck his forked tongue out with a wink. “Sharp teeth, split tongue, piercings… I’ve got a lot for you to work with.”

“When did you get this done?” Kuroo asked as he brought two fingers up to Daishou’s mouth to poke and prod at his tongue, tracing along its slit.

“M’eighteenth birthday.” Daishou answered. His words were a bit slurred, seeing as he had to talk around the obstruction of Kuroo’s fingers in his mouth, but the other man was able to understand. “Fits my whole vibe, right?”

“If you’re trying to go for human-snake-hybrid-thing… Yeah, I think it fits.” Kuroo’s golden eyes were glinting with playfulness. He took his fingers out of Daishou’s mouth and wiped them down on the man’s pants - to which he protested loudly. Kuroo then placed his hands around Daishou’s narrow waist and squeezed gently. “You ready?”

“How many times do I need to say this?” Daishou huffed, draping his arms across Kuroo’s shoulders and clasping his hands behind his neck. “I’ve been ready. For ages.” Kuroo smiled up at him - the first time he’d smiled at Daishou without any anger or malice behind it, and leaned forward to close the gap between their bodies. Kuroo was keeping the kiss slow and sweet, trying to take in every sensation that he could. Daishou’s two piercings were cold against his lips, but being caught in between two moving mouths was making the metal heat up to a less chilling temperature. Kuroo took full advantage of the slow pace, using it to his benefit. The lackadaisical feeling he was getting from this allowed him to keep his cool as best he could, breathing deeply and concentrating on not letting his hormones overtake his body like a touch-starved teenager.

Kuroo’s strength came mostly in his intuition and analysis capabilities. He could present a calm exterior - typically, though apparently not when Daishou provoked him enough - while reviewing everything he knew about their opponent, trying to predict their next move. It made him a trusted boss and a formidable rival. Daishou was similar in a few ways. He had the ability to scrutinize his competition and break them down by exploiting their weaknesses. His lack of desire to work with other families had allowed him to spend the time that would have been allocated for deals with allies elsewhere, usually working with his chemists to oversee their new ideas.

It became a battle of patience quite quickly, and Kuroo was the undeniable victor. He was still enjoying the relaxed atmosphere when Daishou began to squirm around on his lap and pull away with an angry huff. “Cut the shit, Tetsu-chan.” He demanded with a sneer.

“What was that?” Kuroo asked, one of his dark eyebrows raised.

“Tetsurou.” Daishou spoked through gritted teeth. “Quit kissing me like you’re a goddamn thirteen year-old who’s never done this shit before.”

“Hm… I really don’t think I’ll be taking orders from you in this position.” Kuroo’s voice was smooth like honey - it was pissing Daishou off.

“This position,” Daishou began, gesturing vaguely to the room as a whole. “Is you in _my_ domain with me on top of you. Plus I’ve got something you want. There’s only one person in a position to give orders, and that’s me.”

“Still think you’re so tough…” Kuroo rolled his eyes.

“I wouldn’t be Nohebi’s boss if I wasn’t.” Daishou countered. Kuroo didn’t talk back, and instead opted to drag his fingers from Daishou’s belt up to his collarbones, tracing over the tattoo as he traveled along cold flesh. Daishou had to purse his lips tightly together to keep from giggling; when Kuroo gave him a puzzled look, Daishou spat out an irritated “Ticklish.”

Kuroo let one of his hands slip farther up Daishou’s body, until his hand was tangled in the man’s perfectly styled green hair. “Good to know.” He didn’t let Daishou get the chance to say anything else, Kuroo just used the hand on his head to push Daishou towards him until there was no distance separating them. This time - much to Daishou’s liking - Kuroo didn’t tease him with chaste kisses, and ran his tongue along Daishou’s bottom lip, pressing at the gold rings around them.

“Took you long enough.” Daishou grumbled before parting his lips and allowing Kuroo’s tongue to slip inside his mouth. He let Kuroo take the time to explore what he was getting himself into - Daishou hadn’t lied earlier, there was a lot going on in there - and sat still with his eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of the intrusion. Kuroo was having a bit of a sensory overload, if he was being honest. Everything about Daishou had been cold, but his mouth was the complete opposite. Warm and wet, and to Kuroo’s chagrin, captivating. Kuroo spent time running his tongue over the ridges on the roof of Daishou’s mouth, he learned to get used to the feeling of scraping his tongue across Daishou’s sharp canines. When Kuroo finally took the initiative to go into the most uncharted territory he could think of, his eyes shot wide open. He had let his tongue find Daishou’s own, and he had pushed it against the split until he was able to slip between the two sides. The feeling was something so new it was overwhelming, and Kuroo had to pull away.

“Holy shit.” He breathed. “Holy _shit_.”

“Nobody ever tried doing that before…” Daishou mused, already trying to reminisce on the good feeling.

“Did you like it…?” Kuroo asked tentatively.

“Heh…” Daishou brushed his bangs out of his face. “Probably more than I should have.” For the first time, he was the one to initiate their connection, first biting at Kuroo’s bottom lip to make him open his mouth in a gasp, and then slipping his tongue inside with no form of warning. They were moving in perfect sync, not too fast or too slow, and although there was no form of rhythm, neither man was complaining. Along with the lack of rhythm, there was a lack of class, a lack of tact, a lack of grace. It was heated and it was messy; both of their lips and chins were covered in spit. Kuroo’s hand tightened in Daishou’s hair, pulling at the strands wrapped around his fingers, and making the shorter man release a small, pleased noise. Kuroo smirked into the kiss, considering the slip of that noise being the marker of a battle Daishou lost.

“So when am I coming to pick up the toxin?” Kuroo asked, panting between breaths.

“Mm… Never.” Daishou answered instantly, punctuating his last word with a roll of his hips against Kuroo.

“Bullshit.” Even at the beginning of a new phase of their consistent argument, Kuroo didn’t stop his ministrations with Daishou. He used the hand on Daishou’s waist to push him down harder against his body, and both men let out a hiss at the newfound, unrelenting pressure. “You’re giving me what’s mine.”

“If it was yours, it’d be in your possession.” Daishou’s eyes fell shut, a result of his confidence.

“I have no problems hurting you.” Kuroo was becoming breathless; the exertion of making out with Daishou while fighting with him at the same time was ample exercise. “Killing and maiming are two different things.”

“I see…” Daishou tried to shift his hips again, but the ironclad grip Kuroo had on his waist rendered him immobile. His thighs, his neck, and now his waist. Daishou would be reminded of Kuroo’s presence for the next few days by bruises in the shape of his fingerprints. “The kitten wants to prove he’s got claws?” The lilting tone provided a challenge, one that he was desperate for Kuroo to answer to.

Kuroo broke away from the kiss despite Daishou’s protests. “I need your full coherence for this. Where’s your stance on pain? Receiving it is all I need to know for right now.”

“Ah.” Daishou took a few seconds to regain breathing stability. “It’s good.”

“And your opinions on blood?”

“Don’t cut me up or anything. Aside from that I’m fine. If it’s other people’s, that also works.”

“Good to hear. Stop me if I do anything you don’t like.”

“You got it, Tetsurou.”

Kuroo mumbled something under his breath as a response, but Daishou wasn’t able to hear it. Kuroo tapped his lips, beckoning Daishou toward him silently. The boss of Nohebi obliged, but he hadn’t realized exactly what he was in store for. Before Kuroo claimed his mouth for his own personal use, he moved both his hands behind Daishou’s back with his fingertips pressing just below the waistband of his pants. “Move.” The word was spoken like a command, so Daishou didn’t budge. “Suguru. I’m not giving you what you want unless you listen.”

“Fuck you.” Daishou spat out the insult, oh so eloquently, but begrudgingly obliged, moving his hips and letting a choked off noise escape his lips when he felt Kuroo match his movements from below him. “Why’re you so quiet, huh? ‘M I not good enough for you?” He leered at Kuroo.

“The opposite, actually. The only time I talk a whole lot when I’m not discussing consent and things like that is if I’m trying to compensate for something that’s lacking. You… You’re good.” Daishou grinned at the praise, tongue flashing out to swipe over his bottom lip. Kuroo didn’t think he’d ever get over that sight. This time, when he kissed Daishou, it was the roughest one yet. Kuroo didn’t let the man above him stop moving, even pushing him along with his hands whenever his pace slowed down too much. Inside Daishou’s mouth, Kuroo found himself searching for one of the man’s sharp teeth. When he located it, he harshly dragged his tongue across it until a warm and metallic taste flooded his senses. Daishou’s eyes shot open wide, surprised but not upset. He closed them after the initial shock faded, and circled his forked tongue around Kuroo’s lightly bleeding one, attempting to get a taste for himself.

“This is disgusting.” Daishou announced, trying to pull Kuroo impossibly closer.

“Mhm.” Kuroo agreed with a low rumble of laughter. “And you love it, same as me.”

Daishou let himself get completely lost in the overwhelming sensation, not even caring that minutes ago, Kuroo’s small injury had stopped bleeding and the taste had completely disappeared. With the coppery, iron-like taste gone, Daishou could really focus on what _Kuroo_ tasted like. Kuroo without the addition of anything else. Daishou registered cinnamon above anything else, maybe a little apple, too, and the faintest traces of the wine and vodka. It was warm. Too warm. Hot. Even just _hot_ wasn’t a good word to describe it. It was blazing, it was fiery, it was-

“Give me the poison.” Of course, Kuroo just had to interrupt, yet again.

“No.” Daishou’s immediate answer was almost incomprehensible; his tongue was halfway in Kuroo’s mouth. Before Daishou could register and understand what was going on, he felt himself being maneuvered around until his legs weren’t trapped anymore, then lifted off the chair and slammed against his desk, his back on the hardwood surface, staring up at the ceiling. “Wait, wh-” The movement had happened so quickly, and Daishou was still shaken up from it. He glared at Kuroo once he came into Daishou’s field of vision, towering over him. “Where the hell are your manners, why can’t you be a damn gentleman, what the hell?”

“I didn’t think that would have worked.” Kuroo really did have a habit of not answering Daishou’s question. “Seriously, how are you this flexible?” Oh. Daishou supposed that was a good question. His desk had been built so that it was as high as his waist when he was standing up, and with the way Kuroo had manhandled him so roughly - which Daishou didn’t exactly _hate_ \- his back was completely flat against the desk while his legs were still straight, feet planted firmly on the ground. A perfect ninety degree angle, really.

“I did volleyball and gymnastics from elementary school through high school.” Daishou answered. “Now, care to tell me what the hell you’re doing?”

“I remember you saying something like, oh, what was it… ‘the kitten wants to prove he’s got claws?’, right?” Kuroo’s tone was overly condescending.

Daishou would have vehemently denied how red his face got when Kuroo spoke, even if internally, he knew that his cheeks were on fire. “Is this supposed to be some kind of torture porn thing?”

“Oh, shut _up_ , dumbass.” Kuroo rolled his eyes. “Also, you didn’t even use that phrase right, what it actually means is-”

“Tetsurou.” Daishou cut him off. “Don’t lecture me about the nuances of torture porn and do whatever the hell is it you’re planning on doing. I already told you I’d stop you if I’m not into it.”

“In that case…” Kuroo situated himself between Daishou’s legs, staring coolly down at him. He tugged on Daishou’s open shirt until the man got the message and lifted his back off the desk so Kuroo could slip the fabric off of him. “You look good from this angle.”

“I look good from any angle.” Daishou countered, his gold piercings shining even brighter in the new angle of lighting.

Kuroo sighed and smoothed his hands down the planes of Daishou’s chest and stomach, carefully watching the way his abdominal muscles twitched when his fingers dragged over them. “This is why trying to be nice to you is pointless.” He moved one hand to collect both of Daishou’s thin wrists in his strong grip, and pinned them both against the desk, over his head. “I give you a compliment, and you act like a _bitch_.” On the last word, Kuroo dragged his hand that was resting on Daishou’s stomach up to the base of his neck, digging his nails into his skin and leaving angry red lines in his wake.

“What the _fuck_ was that, Tetsurou-” Daishou’s breathing had gotten labored quickly, his arms aching to break out of Kuroo’s grip.

“My claws.” Kuroo’s smirk was obnoxious, and Daishou wanted to punch it off his face.

“Why’d you just do it once?” Alright, Daishou could return a smirk that was equally as obnoxious.

“Suguru…” Kuroo growled, scratching the man below him again, this time directly over his serpent tattoo. “Oh, Suguru, you’re not supposed to be enjoying this. Then again, I should have expected a filthy, slimy snake like you would get off on this.”

“Why do you sound like you’re complaining?” Daishou asked, pouting to fake innocence. “You should be happy that we both like it, Tetsu-chan.” Daishou gasped involuntarily as he felt Kuroo’s nails scratch across his throat.

“I told you to stop calling me that. And you were doing well for a while there.” Kuroo feigned disappointment in his inflection.

“Mm… Tetsu-chan…” And there it was, another scrape of Kuroo’s nails, this time across Daishou’s collarbones.

“You’re just a glutton for punishment, aren’t you?” Kuroo asked through a clenched jaw. Daishou tried to yank his wrists out of Kuroo’s grip, but his movements just caused the black-haired man to squeeze them tighter. “Give. Me. The. Tetrodotoxin.”

“No, Tetsu-chan.” Daishou’s green eyes darkened. For Kuroo, it was the final straw. He switched the hands he was pinning Daishou’s wrists with, leaving his right one now free to move around. He placed it gently on Daishou’s left cheek, caressing his cheekbone with his thumb. Daishou was surprised by how gentle the action was, and was left stunned, not knowing how to react. When Kuroo pulled his hand back just a bit, Daishou was about to question him, but he wasn’t given the chance. Kuroo smacked him hard across the face, Daishou’s head whipping to the side. Kuroo instantly started to search Daishou’s body language for any show of discomfort, but when he met Daishou’s gaze and saw fiery passion behind his green eyes, he licked his lips and placed his fingertips against the cheek he’d just hit. With more pressure than before, Kuroo pressed his nails into Daishou’s skin and trailed them slowly down his body. He started right below his eye, and continued down over his face, down his neck, across his chest and over his stomach, stopping only when he was met with the barrier of Daishou’s pants. Admiring his handiwork, Daishou noted that little pinpricks of blood had popped up in certain areas on Daishou’s body. They were barely noticeable, though. “T-Tetsurou-” Daishou was shaking, and a sheen of sweat had started to envelop the exposed parts of his body.

“Are you alright, Suguru?” Kuroo’s eyes widened ever so slightly with concern.

“My chemists have been working on chemically engineering the tetrodotoxin to increase its lethality per gram.” Daishou said, still shivering. “Come back here in one week and I’ll give you twenty-five kilograms of the stuff.”

After the deal proposal, Kuroo let go of his wrists and Daishou winced as he began to roll them and stretch them out. “That’s acceptable. Now come sit up, you’re bleeding a little.” Kuroo backed away from the desk, giving Daishou the space and time to pull himself up to a seated position. “Did I do too much? Go too far?”

“No, Tetsurou,” Daishou assured him. “We both know I’ve got an attitude and a big mouth; I would have told you to stop if it was necessary. Just… Get me some cotton pads and rubbing alcohol. It’s the bottom right desk drawer.”

“Yeah, of course.” Kuroo nodded. Daishou reached out for the materials he’d requested once Kuroo had procured them, but Kuroo held them out of Daishou’s reach. “I caused these marks, I’ll be the one to take care of them. I strongly believe in taking responsibility for one’s actions.”

“You don’t have to do that…” Daishou muttered, rubbing the back of his neck somewhat awkwardly.

“I know. But I want to, and I will.” Kuroo said. “Unless, of course, you stop me.” He added as an afterthought.

“I guess it’s fine…” Daishou looked up at Kuroo and flashed him a small smile, one without any malicious or mischievous intent. There wasn’t any idle talk as Kuroo cleaned the scratches he’d made on Daishou’s body - what could the bosses of two different families possibly make small talk about, especially when one was averse to interaction between families? Both men became accustomed to the comfortable silence, their breathing being the main source of noise in the room, replaced by the rustling of fabric when Kuroo put his suit jacket back on and Daishou did the same with his shirt. Kuroo made a teasing remark as Daishou undid his belt to be able to tuck his shirt back into his pants, but the shorter man silenced him with a flippant middle finger. As Kuroo put his tie back on, Daishou buttoned his shirt all the way, concealing most of the marks on his body. There were marks on his neck and face that hadn’t faded yet: light bruises on his neck and two scratch marks on his cheek. A bit embarrassing for Daishou, but there was nothing he could have done about it. “Come back here on the first of October. Eleven o’clock at night. I’ll deliver the twenty-five kilograms to you by hand. And then we’re done.”

“Done?” Kuroo echoed. He cursed himself out inside his head for sounding a bit upset when he said the word.

“We’re done with business matters.” Daishou stood up, stoic and unmoving in front of Kuroo. “Nohebi doesn’t involve itself with other families if we can help it.”

“Business matters…” Kuroo echoed yet again, a smirk slowly growing on his face. “And if I suggested seeing you again for personal matters?”

Daishou answered him non-verbally, first, with a chaste and soft kiss pressed against his lips. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it.” Daishou grinned at him, and Kuroo caught a glimpse of that sinful - yes, Kuroo thought it was sinful - tongue poke out between his teeth. Kuroo nodded slowly.

“The first of October, huh… After I come to pick up what’s rightfully _mine_ , come home with me. Nothing business related, of course.” After Kuroo propositioned Daishou, he started to walk away, crossing out from behind the desk and continuing his brisk pace until he reached the door.

“That works for me,” Daishou said once he saw Kuroo’s hand touch the door handle. “Goodbye, Kuroo.”

Kuroo opened the door and stepped into the hallway. “Next week will come by sooner than you think, Ophidia.” The door closed behind him, and Daishou was left standing alone in his office. He slumped back against his chair with a sigh.

“I can’t wait, Tetsu-chan…”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm so bad at notes hdfhjfskdhskj anyway there might be a part two to this


End file.
